


the ties that hold your mind and mouth give out

by verity



Series: directedverse skittles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Directedverse, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Sub Stiles, True Alpha Scott McCall, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's rare that our kind can take the wolf form," Derek says seriously. "The full shift isn't for power, Scott—it's a way to experience the purest form of our nature."</p><p>Scott searches for words that aren't <i>but my boyfriend just wants the purest form of my dick</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ties that hold your mind and mouth give out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



> thanks to Dana for betaing and Ashe and Peardita for cheering! I did a lot of terrifying google searches for this fic; any errors that remain are my own.

The full shift is different for everyone. Peter was monstrous, half-human, charred; Derek never did it as an alpha, but now he can turn into an actual wolf, so everyone keeps a pair of his sweatpants in their cars. Deucalion got glowy eyes. For a while, it looks like Scott's just going to get extra fancy teeth.

For a while.

Stiles scratches beneath Scott's chin and says, "Hey, maybe I should put a collar on you."

Scott huffs and butts his head against Stiles's hip. He's not like Derek, an actual wolf—he's turned into one of those dudes in the Twilight movies, giant and fluffy in the bathroom mirror. Stiles is standing next to him, his fingers still buried in Scott's fur. His own collar is a dark stripe over his throat, soft brown leather with a simple catch on the back. Sometimes Stiles takes it off just to test Scott's patience, to provoke Scott into tackling him—wherever, basically. Scott's tied Stiles to trees in the preserve, held him down beneath the bleachers, handcuffed him to the radiator at home because Stiles _so_ had it coming. Scott likes that Stiles has to choose to keep his collar on. Putting a lock on it would be too easy.

Stiles isn't easy, not at all.

—

Mom doesn't try to put an end to a decade of slumber parties just because there's now a collar involved, but she does give Scott a new version of The Talk. "You have to have a safeword," she says. "And condoms. Safe everything. Safe sex. Safe life."

There's a pile of condoms in front of them, the ones they give away at the hospital that are all neon colors. Stiles is going to make fun of him for having a green penis. "Ugh, Mom," Scott says. "Didn't we already do this?"

Mom shakes her head. "When you were with Allison, honey—that was different. Being the dominant partner is a lot of responsibility. I know you boys care about each other, but that's not enough."

"I'll take good care of him," Scott says. "Promise."

And he does. Scott chains Stiles to the bed with all the stupid werewolf restraints Stiles bought and makes Stiles come five times in one night, fingering him until Stiles is sobbing and shaking, saying, "No, it's too much— _green_ , don't you—don't _stop_." A lot of the time, Scott's own orgasms feel like an afterthought. They're fun, but he likes getting Stiles off even more. There's no one who knows better what makes Stiles tick, no one who can do this as well Scott. When he soothes Stiles's bruises and pulls away some of the pain after, Scott feels warm and possessive, his wolf appeased. They cuddle at night, Stiles starfished over Scott so he can't get away.

Then Scott washes his sheets, because if he doesn't, he's definitely getting sleepover privileges revoked.

—

"Do you know how have wolves have sex?" Stiles says. They're spooned together, Scott wolfed out and fluffed out behind Stiles, nose buried in the pleasantly sweaty nape of Stiles's neck. Scott likes Stiles's scent when he's dirty, the smell of the two of them together, the comfort of their bodies cuddled together at rest. Right now they're in Stiles's bed, his dad out on patrol duty. Aside from Scott's own room, there's nowhere more familiar, safer.

Scott nudges Stiles's shoulder with his muzzle because he can't say, _You've only told me about a hundred times_. If Stiles was fascinated with human anatomy before, he was obsessed when werewolves entered the picture. Did Scott have a knot? Was he sure? Had he ever thought about it while jerking off—look, curiosity's only natural, geez. The change didn't do much for Scott's dick, but that was okay. He'd never wanted a monster penis. It was reassuring that some things stayed the same.

After a few moments, Stiles turned over and put his hand in the thick fur on Scott's belly. "Okay, I know you know. I just—can I try something?"

Scott nods, ears twitching, and Stiles's hand moves lower, stroking his belly, where—where Scott's dick is. His wolf dick. Which is still his dick, but, you know, leveled up a little. He hasn't exactly taken it for a test drive, unless peeing next to the back porch counts. Stiles drags his fingers along the sheath where Scott's dick is hiding, coaxes it out, until it's lying in Stiles's palm. Still soft.

"Wolves only get hard inside—somebody," Stiles says, low, breathy. "That's why you've got a bone in your bone. Ha." He lets go of Scott for a moment, but only long enough to bring his palm up to his mouth and lick. When he wraps his hand around Scott's dick, it feels almost the same as usual. "Bet you can come like this, though. I want—I want to do it for you. Can I?"

Scott rubs his muzzle against Stiles's throat. Normally, this goes the other way around—Scott's the one who gets Stiles off, who gets _into_ getting him off. But Scott is a teenage boy who's also sometimes a wolf. He's curious. He tugs gently at Stiles's collar with his teeth.

"I guess you need a safeword, too," Stiles says after a moment. He's not usually the one who leads this discussion. "Growl twice for yes, once for no?"

Scott growls. Growls again.

—

The next time they have sex, it's normal stuff, Stiles tied on his belly to the support at the foot of Scott's bed, drooling around a makeshift ballgag. Scott shifts a little to use his broader, flatter tongue on Stiles's butthole, freshly-scrubbed in the shower; Stiles's butt is up in the air, his legs spread far enough that he has to struggle for balance with his hands overhead. The muscles in his legs tremble beneath Scott's hands on his thighs. Scott reaches around to jerk Stiles off with slow, irregular strokes while he eats him out and Stiles groans around the gag. Then Scott flips Stiles over and yanks the tennis ball out of his mouth so Stiles can deep throat him, sloppy and fast.

Afterward, Scott makes Stiles drink tea with honey and clove and stuff after, because he's a good alpha and, weirdly enough, he likes Stiles being able to talk.

"Do you want to do more butt stuff?" Stiles says, leaning into Scott on the couch while Scott brings up Beautiful Katamari on the Xbox. "Like… in my butt."

Scott selects multiplayer mode. It's not like he hasn't thought about it, but he kind of just wants to make Stiles flush all over and make his screwed-up orgasm face all the time, and the way to that tends to involve restraints and manhandling and waiting forever to come. Scott has watched a few videos on how to make handjobs last 20 minutes, and he's putting his ability to hear Stiles's heartbeat to good use. Putting his dick in Stiles's butt seems like might require a lot of multi-tasking. "Maybe."

Stiles says, "When you're a wolf?"

"Is my regular dick not enough for you?" Scott elbows Stiles; tea sloshes precariously in Stiles's mug. "I'm hurt, dude. Wounded."

Stiles shrugs. "I mean, I could buy one of those dildos off the internet, I guess. And you can think about me jerking it in my room while you're alone at night— "

"You're the worst," Scott says.

—

Scott spends a week trying to figure out how to selectively shift. It would great if he could be a wolf with hands, or a mouth; even better if he could just switch out dicks on demand. No dice. He tries to talk to Derek about it, but it doesn't go well.

"It's rare that our kind can take the wolf form," Derek says seriously. "The full shift isn't for power, Scott—it's a way to experience the purest form of our nature."

Scott searches for words that aren't _but my boyfriend just wants the purest form of my dick_. "I get that, but what if I want to text somebody?"

Derek stares at him.

"What if it's an emergency?" Scott tries. "What if I get stuck?"

"…where?" says Derek.

So, yeah, that's not a very productive conversation.

—

Stiles is unconcerned. "I _want_ the full wolf experience. It's like the girlfriend experience, except—"

"I'm a wolf," Scott says. "A giant wolf. I'm going to be a giant wolf in your butt for an _hour_."

Stiles says, "Don't tell me you don't have the biggest—ah—alpha boner for that."

Scott already has a perfectly human boner. He's been fingering Stiles for twenty minutes while Stiles whines and argues with him and it's great, even though he's pretty nervous. But this is Stiles. Scott trusts Stiles to tell him if he doesn't like something—repeatedly, at length—and Stiles never wants to start at entry level. Stiles doesn't even want to read the instructions when he builds IKEA furniture, so of course he wants to skip straight from BJs to wolf buttfucking.

"I'm gonna get in you first," Scott says, pulling his fingers out. They're already on their sides, so it's easy to just roll on the condom and push his dick in. Careful, slow, but Stiles is already open and impatient as hell, and he feels so _good_ , hot and tight. "Fuck. We're doing this again—later."

"Right now," Stiles says, panting. "Come on, I want you, I want it—"

The change ripples over Scott from head to toe; his feet are the last to shift. His dick is already swelling at the base, locking him into Stiles while Stiles gasps and writhes and finally comes. Scott wants to say, _holy crap_ , but all that comes out is a low whine. He's—in Stiles. He's really, really in there. And he's really annoyed now that he put on a condom because all he wants to do is fill Stiles up like this junk is made to do.

Stiles clamps down on Scott's knot and says, "I'm yours."

All Scott can do is rock into him in short thrusts and bite lightly at the base of Stiles's neck, just above the band of his collar. _Mine._ He can only say it like this, scraping his paws against Stiles's back and legs, trying to get leverage. To get deeper in. Instinct drives him. For once, he's focused on himself, on the heady sensation of penetration and the rich flower of Stiles's scent, his sweat and jizz, the jitter of his pulse as he chases another orgasm. When Scott comes with a red-eyed growl, his whole body shakes as he rides out the rush, ecstatic and consuming and wild.

—

They lie cuddled together for a while, but Scott shifts back to human before the tie can get uncomfortable. Adios for now, giant wolf dick. Stiles grumbles when Scott pulls out, but he cracks an eye open to watch Scott cautiously lower the swollen condom into the trash. "This is like that commercial," Stiles says. "You know, the one where they put a condom over a faucet and turn it on to show you how strong it is—"

Scott rolls over toward Stiles to press a kiss to his flushed, ridiculous face and brush Stiles's damp bangs back from his forehead. "You're so weird."

"Yeah, and you love it," Stiles says, tucking his hand beneath his cheek.

Scott circles Stiles's wrist with his fingers, squeezes, and says, "I totally do."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
